As an immigrant you are bound to experience discrimination. I was just not expecting to face it at such a young age with no defenses to protect me. One elevator ride introduced me to that intolerance.

My mother, as the housekeeping manager, gets the chance to stay for a weekend every year as a guest to assess the customer service in the Hilton Monona Terrace, and every year I have had the chance to go with her and bring a friend. My mother and I have developed a strong relationship, since I am her only child and we are the only ones from our big family to have moved more than a city away from Mexico City, my family’s hometown.

This was our last day staying at the Hilton. The sound of the blow drier awakened me. I turned around to see my friend April, ready to go downstairs. My mother was already downstairs in the restaurant waiting for us to eat breakfast. April headed downstairs to wait with my mom while I got ready.

I got in the elevator and started heading down, but then the elevator stopped at the 10th floor and the doors slowly began to open. I looked quickly in the mirror, the overhead light not helping how I looked. My skin looked darker than it was, giving it a yellow undertone. I stepped to the left to make more room as an older couple stepped in.

The woman said hello, pronouncing every letter as if I didn’t know English.

I responded with a simple hello, trying to be as polite as I could and trying to hide the small accent that I could not shake off. The woman was startled as if not expecting me to have responded.

“I did not get service this morning and the other Mexican maid told me they would come in the morning, will you be able to do it?” she asked.

As the words came out her mouth my heart raced and a fire started in the pit of my stomach. As I was 13 years old at the time, I was bewildered by the fact that an older woman would ask such a question to a child. In those two minutes down to the third floor the woman had manage to humiliate, belittle and insult me. My world quickly deteriorated after those words were said. I felt helpless and hurt. Never had I been in such a situation where I was treated that way due to my ethnicity.

My mother had done a good job keeping me in a bubble and trying to protect me from the discrimination I would face later in life due to the color of my skin, where I come from, and my gender. She had gone through it all shortly after moving to Madison, in search of a better life. But inevitably I would have to face it some time and the time had come. It was now up to me to decide how I would react to the woman’s ignorance.

As politely as I could, I informed her that I was not a worker for the Hilton, but a guest. The woman said nothing. She did not show any emotion, she only had a stone cold face staring at the silver elevator door as we rode the last of the floors. There was silence, the only noise you could hear after that was the faint elevator music.

When the elevator stopped and the doors opened at the first floor, I walked out, leaving the couple behind. This was not going to be the last time this would happen to me, but now I would know how to deal with it. I took a turn and saw April and next to her my mother. I walked towards them with confidence and pride of who I was and where I came from. I put the incident at the back of my mind and continued on, ready for the next one to come.